


Made to Measure

by tentacle_chub



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Universe, Captivity, Dresses, Dubious Consent, F/M, Groping, Large Cock, Nipple Licking, Showers, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacle_chub/pseuds/tentacle_chub
Summary: She feels like a scummy street urchin playing dress up with clothes stolen from a princess.





	1. Chapter 1

Rey has been unconscious and woken up in bad positions a few times in her life. Fainting from heatstroke and waking to find all of her haul stolen. Falling from her climbs on star destroyers and hitting her head on the way down before also having her haul stolen. More than a few times when hunger or thirst got to her she awoke to find a teedo patting her down, searching for the nourishment she didn’t have.

 

Nothing could compare to being knocked out by the Force, though. Nothing so shocking as waking up strapped to an interrogation table with metal cuffs cutting into her wrists and the dawning realization that her captor crouched in front of her.

 

Nothing except for perhaps her current situation.

 

This time, Rey awakens to a cascade of hot water and saccharine-sweet smelling chemicals on top of her stripped-bare body where she lays at the bottom of a ’fresher. She scrambles to her feet, sliding a bit on the foamy lather that had been dumped on the floor along with her, then retreats to a corner where the water won’t directly spray her. Breathing heavily, she leans her head against cold black tile and tries to ignore the hot moisture still rising up and sticking to her.

 

Given a moment to recover, Rey recalls that sensation again, of having Kylo Ren’s tendrils reach out and squeeze her mind until all of her thoughts popped like bubbles and the universe went dark. That nerve burner. He’s carried her off to the depths of some First Order outpost again, no doubt. She can still feel his presence lingering in her head in a heavy gloom.

 

Rey goes to the seal where the door is and tries to pry it open with her hands, only to have them slip off. An attempt with the Force comes next doesn’t work, either. There is a distinct creak of metal for a moment and a shudder, but she loses her concentration when another cold splash of soap splatters on her back from another automated dropping of it from an upper compartment.

 

She turns her head to look back at the water still coming down. Clearly, she’s meant to be bathing, but she almost wants to ignore anything offered to her by her enemies. Almost. Memories of having no water on Jakku and thoughts of how much she’s already wasted plague her until she steps back underneath the water and begins to scrub at herself with the soap. Her hair has already been let down, so she has no problem lathering it up and washing it off as well.

 

Various kinds of liquids and gels pour onto her throughout the shower, smelling strongly of what Rey imagines are fruits and flowers judging by the saccharine nature of it all. None of it is any good to eat, though, something she learns the hard way after licking a bit of orange stuff off of her palm.

 

Even the Resistance had only sonics and one kind of soap that doubled as hair product, so the luxuriousness of the ’fresher doesn’t escape Rey. She tries to enjoy being so thoroughly pampered even as dread twists in her belly.

 

Another few attempts at getting the door open have mostly similar results to her first try, though she does manage to get it an inch open at one point. Her triumph dies away in a millisecond when she peeks through the opening and her heart turns to ice.

 

Kylo Ren paces back and forth in front of the ’fresher, clenching and unclenching his fists. He stops mid-stride and the molded metal countenance of his helmet jerks to face her when she makes an involuntary noise of shock.

 

She had known the monster was close thanks to the Force, but not _this_ close. Rey clasps an arm over her breasts and a hand to her groin even though it’s more than likely he can’t see either before backing away from the slot between the doors she’d opened up and going to the furthest corner of the ’fresher. She’s naked and weaponless and he’s armored and no doubt packing his lightsaber. She half expects him to reach in a hand and claw her out like she’s a skittermouse trapped in an exceptionally small den.

 

Instead, he asks, “Are you finished?”

 

Finished with what? Bathing?

 

“No,” she says.

 

His helmet makes a crackle of deep static that Rey can only assume is a grunt before he says with much more vitriol, “Hurry up. Wash all of that scavenger filth off of you or you’ll ruin your new clothes.”

 

“Kriff you!” Rey spits before her better judgement can catch up with her mouth.

 

She slams the ’fresher doors back together again. There’s a loud thunk and a snarled swear as a result of what Rey can only assume was Kylo kicking something on the other side of the door. Her head buzzes with her irritation and his. He’s acting as if she’s fresh off of Jakku like the first time they met, a grimy waif. She wishes she could roll around in a gigantic puddle of mud just to spite him.

 

The latter part of what he said occurs to Rey as she stands beneath the water but makes no more effort to scrub herself. New clothes? What humiliating wardrobe has he picked out for her after discarding the attire provided to her by the Resistance? She turns it over in her head and decides he probably has something for her that she’s gotten glimpses of in the slimiest parts of Jakku. Pleasure slaves were made to wear metal garments that crushed their organs and visibly chafed with the sand caught in them. He probably seeks to humiliate her for defeating him.

 

Rey feels like she’s lost a few layers of skin to the scalding water by the time it shuts off. A sonic turns on and all of the water on her body dissipates. Rey combs her fingers through her hair out of habit as it is dries off before realizing she might feel better leaving it a mess to upset Kylo. Before she can muss it again, the sonic shuts off and the doors slide open.

 

Rey balls her fists and gets into a fighting stance, only to realize Kylo is no longer in the small room outside of the ’fresher. After glancing around to be sure he’s really gone, Rey steps out and looks for something to cover herself with.

 

Instead of a towel or her old clothes, she finds a series of dresses hung up on the wall nearby. The first she looks at appears initially to be black, which would not surprise Rey in the slightest, but upon taking it off of the hook and turning it from side to side she discovers that it is actually a deep plum color in the light. It’s the simplest of the bunch, little more than a slip. However, the squarish golden designs running down the side and branching to frame where a slit begins halfway up her left leg make up for the otherwise plain look.

 

After determining that Kylo hadn’t had the decency to provide her with any undergarments, Rey pulls the slip over her head. It hangs just past her ankles, far silkier on her than anything else she can remember wearing.

 

She looks for a mirror. It occurs to her she ought to be looking for a mirror with the intention of breaking it and getting a weapon for herself, not to admire her new prison clothes. Regardless, there isn’t one, though there is a panel where she believes one should be over a sink. There are a number of hair ornaments arranged across it. She selects a couple of clips and attempts to put up her hair in the back but finds she’s more clumsy with them than her hair ties and none of them are sharp enough to do any injury to Kylo, so she puts them back.

 

After a couple of steps towards the door, her only remaining option, Rey realizes that the dress is a bit too tight on her upper legs to allow her to run properly. That will be a problem when she escapes. After taking a moment to bemoan the hard work of whatever poor seamstress had done the design—it looks far too elaborate to have been done by a droid—Rey seizes either side of the slit and rips it all the way up the side to her thigh. The gold threads hang askance on either side and Rey feels the slightest bit guilty. Still, she can’t fight stormtroopers, much less Kylo Ren, with her legs trapped.

 

The door slides open once she gets close enough. The next room is far larger. What catches her eye first is a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window with a view of space and a pale slice of the moon the ship she’s on orbits. Rey catches sight of her reflection in the transparisteel as she walks past while looking for an exit. Despite the heavy-duty shower in the ’fresher, she feels like a scummy street urchin playing dress up with clothes stolen from a princess.

 

Or gifted to her by a prince.

 

Kylo Ren’s reflection steps into view alongside hers. The transparisteel reflection makes him look almost see-through with his dark garb blending with the space outside, interrupted only by stars and the filigree around the eyeshade of his helmet. With the slightest hint of blue, he could be a phantom. Nevertheless, his body is very warm and solid next to her. Rey’s skin prickles.

 

“I see you didn’t like this one.” Kylo reaches down to touch the shredded fabric at the highest point on her thigh.

 

He slips his fingers through the gap to knead her quadriceps. Rey stares at the way his caresses beneath the fabric jostle the purple tones into view in the starlight. The leather glove is soft but not slippery, the hard lines of the stitches making Rey’s breath catch. The pleated cuff of his sleeve that comes up to the middle of his palm stands in some contrast to the material on his fingers but is no less pleasurable. Rey is too dumbfounded and stimulated to even be upset. At least at first.

 

“Oi,” she mutters when his hand slides to the back of her leg, dangerously close to her rear.

 

His vocoder makes a sound like a rumbling purr before he withdraws. Rey presses her thighs together and tries to ignore the wetness and warmth that has begun to surface at the apex of them, ever so slightly. She takes a deep breath, then releases it, smoothing her palms over the skirt of the dress. It's the chill of the room and inherent tension around Kylo Ren in the Force that has her so worked up. That’s all.

 

The lie is so weak even Rey herself doesn’t believe it.

 

Kylo tilts his helm. “Put on the black one next.”

 

He doesn’t seem interested in fighting or reading her mind or some other third antagonistic action against her. Still, the defiant streak in her and her resentment at being told what to do causes her to want to snap at him.

 

“No guarantees I won’t rip that one, too,” she says.

 

“That’s fine.” Kylo wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him, leaning down until his awful mask is inches from her face. “I’ll tear it the rest of the way off if that makes you more comfortable.”

 

With an unchecked shove of the Force, Rey twists out of his grasp and pushes him away. She relishes in his stumble but doesn’t stick around to see his recovery as she retreats to the ’fresher.

 

She takes the slip dress off and lays it on the vanity next to the sink. Giving it a final look, she wonders at how much her younger self would be torn between keeping it and trading it if she somehow came across such a dress on Jakku. It would ultimately come down to the latter, of course, but maybe she could cut off a bit of the bottom to save for her scrap doll.

 

It occurs to her that Kylo is treating her like a doll, too, overgrown child that he is. Rey doesn’t like that idea in the slightest. She’s no plaything and he doesn’t seem like the type to be nice to his toys. Still, Rey thinks as she turns to consider the black dress, she’s more than capable of playing rough herself.

 

The dress Kylo told her to put on next has rubies sewn into the waist, deep red and shiny against the comparatively dull black silk. Rey squints at them, trying to determine if they’re real and worth trying to pry off and steal. After giving an experimental tug at the tight stitches with one of the hair ornaments, she decides it isn’t worth it and puts the dress on.

 

At once, she notices it’s a bit too big for her around the torso and sleeves. The cuffs fall in uneven waves over her hands despite her attempts to drag them up. At least her arms aren’t as cold as they were with the sleeveless slip. The trade-off to having fabric on her arms, though, seems to be that the skirt and neckline are shorter.

 

Feeling her confidence get tamped down a little, Rey tugs the former down and the latter up as she walks back out into the main room again. Kylo is sitting in a squarish black chair in one corner by a gruesome altar with what appears to be a partially-melted helmet on top of it. She can’t make out the finer details of it and is distracted from the sight by Kylo turning away from it to look at her.

 

Rey stops tugging at her dress in favor of crossing her arms over her chest, but that just pushes her breasts up and exposes them further. Small as they are, they slip easily from the dress’ confines. She curses and tries to press them back into place with one hand, face burning. The sleeves get in the way. She can’t recall ever having a wardrobe malfunction such as this. Not that she’s ever had much of a wardrobe _to_ malfunction.

 

Her attention is diverted once again to Kylo when she hears the heavy clomp of his boots, just failing to disguise the hiss of his mask unsealing from around his face, followed by the far heavier noise of his helmet hitting the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

In a blind panic and rage, Rey puts up resistance. At least at first. It’s the rational thing to do. The sane thing to do.

 

Kylo attempts to pull her hands away from where they cover her chest. This earns him a half dozen filthy names. Then an elbow to his gut. The effectiveness of the latter move is offset by the pain lancing through her bones—he’s armored beneath his surcoat.

 

Rey bites his hand, then, and grinds her heel into his booted toe. Her attempt to punch him once she frees a hand is deterred by his armored gambeson, much in the same way he’d been protected from her elbow. She focuses her efforts elsewhere. Without a lightsaber to cut into him, nothing seems quite able to make up for how humiliated she is. This vulnerability is too much.

 

Never mind that he’d removed a bit of his protection for her by taking off the helmet. It isn’t enough in turn.

 

And, truth be told, she wishes the helmet was back on. With his vocoder distorting his words, she would have an easier time forgetting that he’s just a human man.

 

Now, she can hear his grunts of pain. There’s that too-soft, far-too-sensitive real voice. She hates that she can’t hate it more.

 

He doesn’t say please, not really. She can hear it anyway. She stops fighting so hard. She lets her anger show mostly in sharp little breaths and thorniness from her mind rather than all-out punches.

 

Still, Rey refuses to look him right in the face. It’s easier to instead focus on an annoyingly loose thread on his cowl right near one of his shoulders. That doesn’t stop her from seeing the lowest portion of his countenance in her mid-peripherals. She can see the deepest part of the scar. The mole just over the right side of his soft lips. The parting of those lips. And, stars, his tongue sliding out the slightest bit to slicken them—

 

Mortified, then aroused, which in turn makes her even more mortified, Rey shifts. She feels the glide of the fabric of the dress more distinctly than before, cool and silky. Her embarrassingly wet, warm vulvae slide against each other with the same motion.

 

It occurs to her to wonder whether or not he’s as affected as her.

 

It’s _Kylo Ren,_ Rey’s thoughts scream, initially in reproach. Loathsome, twisted Kylo Ren. Then she turns the name over in her mind, drawing out the syllables, becoming less reproachful and far more affectionate, and—he has to be messing with her head again.

 

Rey tries to push back against the probe, but it isn’t there. Mentally, at least, Kylo keeps his distance. Physically he’s all but on top of her and once Rey decides she’s hit him enough her arms go limp in his grip.

 

When it comes down to it, she’s willing to accept him guiding her hands away from covering herself and attacking him. They come to rest where his waist tapers inward with his belt. His lightsaber is conspicuously missing from his side, thus terminating her plan for running him through with it if things go sour(er). He pats her hands with his, twice, reminding her just how much larger he is.

 

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

 

Rey scoffs even as her clit throbs.

 

The neckline of the dress still clings a bit to the lowest part of her breasts. It takes little more than a two-fingered gesture from him and a tug of the Force for even that bit of coverage to slide off. The sleeves pin Rey’s upper arms to her sides as the wide neckline comes to a halt at one of her sets of ribs. Her breasts are braced just above it and their full exposure allows Kylo to cup them in his gloved palms.

 

Between the cold air of the chamber and the slight tweaks from each of his thumbs and the searing burn of the gaze she still refuses to meet, Rey’s nipples get very tight very quickly. She sets her teeth and stares at the loose thread on his cowl again. Kriff him. Kriffing kriff him.

 

He kneads the whole of each breast with flexing motions from his fingers, more precise than she thought someone so oafish would be capable of. It never ceases to surprise her how soft he can get with her. For a moment the danger ceases to be that she’ll melt into his arms and rather that he’ll melt into hers.

 

She almost wishes he would bruise her chest; it would only be suitable for something so unimpressive. Her breasts have always reminded Rey of insect bites more than anything else, barely visible rises of flesh on her chest, playing second fiddle to the pectoral muscles hardened beneath. Further unflattering is how the skin appears splotchy in places, deeply tanned by Jakku’s sun along her face, shoulders, and neck and a color more akin to sand-dirtied stormtrooper armor on her torso.

 

Kylo seems to disregard all of this as he leans down and presses his face between her tits. Rey inhales sharply. Her first instinct is to rip out a chunk of his hair, but once she gets handfuls of it she can’t bring herself to do anything more than run her fingers through the silky-soft locks. Kylo seems to like it.

 

He turns his head, resting the scar she’d given him against her sternum as he nuzzles her left breast. “Mmm, scavenger…”

 

The first time he’d called her as much in the interrogation room it sounded like an accusation, a slur, even, but now it sounds like a pet name. It’s better that he say “scavenger,” she supposes, than a traditionally romantic endearment. If he called her sweetheart or some variation thereof she’d probably throw up all over him and his beautiful hair.

 

He pushes her to the floor and follows her down, bracing himself on his knees on either side of her. The dress’ skirt lays around Rey in a smooth pool and keeps her lower half warm while her upper half is left to be warmed by Kylo’s wandering hands.

 

He lifts his head slightly. The tough, ragged bits of the outside of the scar and the smooth new skin in the center of it drag against her skin. Then he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks, matching the motions of his hand on her other breast.

 

Rey’s hands, meanwhile, grip his hair more tightly, then the sides of his neck in a moment of wild fantasy about ending the confrontation and further ones. Then, before she can even begin to cause him pain, a few of his crooked teeth snag on a tender bit of her areola.

 

Rey cries out, then digs a heel into his side after discovering his neck is too thick for her to properly strangle. Kylo hums and licks. Whether or not it’s an apology, it feels good.

 

Hurting her with his teeth doesn’t encourage him to be any gentler, not in the slightest. Rey can already feel the love bruises forming around and on top of her nipples as he lavishes attention on them. Something in her belly twists and her cunt feels like it’s melting when he takes the whole of one tit into his mouth. She feels at once caged and protected by his body crouched over her.

 

After leaving her breasts bruised and slickened, Kylo nuzzles back between the tiny mounds for a moment, no doubt relishing in Rey’s rapid heartbeat and frantic breathing. She feels overwhelmed. The moment Kylo shifts and pulls himself off of her for a moment, she squirms out from under him and pulls herself onto her knees. The stupid dress hampers her movements more than a little, the excess fabric nearly causing her to fall over.

 

Kylo doesn’t stay away for long. His hand alights on her thigh, smoothing the fabric draped over it, maintaining his position in a crawl. Rey crosses her arms over her chest and squeezes her thighs together. She wants to tell him she hates him and punch him right in his soft mouth.

 

Instead, she says, “I don’t like this dress, either.”

 

“This one would be even easier for me to rip off than the last one. Your body is drowning in it.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

She gets to her feet when his hand wanders too close to her crotch, feeling more confident with him at her feet even if her shadow can’t hope to swallow up his huge form. Then she turns away.

 

“Where are you going?” He demands, sounding more like a petulant child than the confident man that she’d just allowed, and worse, _enjoyed_ marking her up.

 

“There are at least five other much better choices,” Rey says, knowing that it’s a shallow excuse to get away and catch her breath and uncaring. “You wouldn’t have bothered getting them for me if you didn’t want to see me in them, right?”

 

She realizes too late that she shouldn’t have turned her back on him. The Force freeze she really should have known was coming has her stiffening midway to the ’fresher. Kylo presses up behind her, playing with her hair and bared shoulder blades with the tip of his finger. Without her full-body lock in place, she’s sure she would shiver.

 

His hair tickles the side of her face and his breath is hot when he leans over to speak in her ear. “Pick your favorite. Don’t keep me waiting long.”

 

His crotch is far more swollen and heated than it has any right to be when he grinds it against her ass for a moment. When released from the Force freeze, Rey stumbles forward. She straightens and does not look back at him. If she does, she might not end up being able to resist him, awful perversion and demanding, selfish nature and all.

 

It occurs to Rey after the door shuts behind her that she should have spat at him not to tell her what to do. Still, she feels compelled to put on her favorite regardless of what he wants. After shucking the too-big dress off of herself, she fingers the hem of the most risqué of the bunch. She’d been too shy before, but it’s not as though she’s ever going to wear it outside of the chamber. And he won’t blackmail her with it. Probably.

 

The black dress was very soft and pretty; gauzy, almost, making it look dark gray on top of her skin. There are flower patterns stitched into the chest and sides that had initially drawn her to it. She imagines Kylo will appreciate it more for the sheerness and deep neckline and the fact that it’s short enough to show off at least seventy-five percent of her legs.

 

After a bit of craning her neck and admiring herself, Rey steels herself enough to go back out into the main chamber.

 

While she had been dressing, Kylo almost completely undressed. He’s sitting on the same chair he’d been on earlier as he tugs off his pants. Rey gets an eyeful of ashy skin and dark hair and freckles and muscles and _oh Maker_ his penis.

 

Rey’s initial thought is that there’s something wrong with it. She’s seen human male genitalia before. It was impossible to walk around Niima without accidentally seeing someone urinating once in a while. But their— _dicks, cocks, penises, girl, don’t you know anything_ an old woman cackled when fourteen-year-old Rey had asked—were always limp and had to be held up by their owners.

 

Kylo’s doesn’t look like that at all. It’s standing up on its own and flushed red, curved up until the bulbous, dripping head almost meets his belly. She'd felt it before on her ass, but she'd been in too much numb shock to register it had been in this state then, too, just trapped by his clothes. Now it's freed and _huge_.

 

Between her legs, Rey’s clit throbs and her walls give an involuntary clench.

 

Oh. Oh. His… that… is… meant to go in her… oh.

 

She’s never seen exactly what the men did to the whores and pleasure slaves they walked away with, but now she has some idea. Her vagina clenches again in arousal as much as fear. Even if she’s right about where his cock is meant to go, it wouldn’t fit. It couldn’t. He’d rip her right down the middle more quickly than his lightsaber could ever hope to.

 

Retreating back into the ’fresher and trying to figure out a way to break out again seems like a better prospect than what he has in mind, but he’s seen her. Even across the room, he looks gigantic when he stands up.

 

There’s no Force freeze, but Rey stays rooted in place, cunt and stomach tight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> / shows up five million years late with Starbucks/
> 
> It's FINALLY done. I take so long to write really involved smut. I hope that it paid off.

“This is the one you liked best?” Kylo asks, fingering the hem of the dress she picked out.

 

He’s all but on top of her and she didn’t even notice him coming, transfixed with arousal and fear. Rey shivers a little when his thumbnail grazes one of her thighs. It takes some doing for her to grab both of his hands and force them to stay firmly on her hips as he had done to her before. Kylo snorts but does not move when she lets go. Instead, he rubs at her bony hips with his fingers and she feels embarrassed that she isn’t a little more pleasant to touch.

 

Rey, in turn, runs her fingers down his sides. There’s no loose thread on his cowl to look at now. If her eyes drift too far up she’s met with the angle of his scar next to the plushness of his lips and if she looks too far down then she’s going to get confronted with the far more startling realization of how big his dick is up close. Staring straight ahead is not an option either, as it ends with her getting an eyeful of her archenemy’s chest, already thick pectorals distending further for a moment whenever he takes in a breath. He’s so woefully attractive, everywhere, scars and all.

 

He’s getting impatient, Rey can tell, beginning to squeeze her a little more as she works up the bravery to smooth her hands over his pectorals and thumb at his nipples. She grazes over them once with her fingertips, then with her nails.

 

Kylo’s breathing gets shallower. Rey dares to look up at his eyes and sees that his pupils have blown up large enough to very nearly swallow the irises. The eye contact seems to break his self-control. In the next minute he’s leaning down and slotting their mouths together. Rey’s hands slide up to his shoulders, she stands on her toes, and tilts her head to better taste him. The resulting kiss is wet and messy and bruise-forming. Rey bites one of his lips. The softness and his moan send a shiver down her spine.

 

Rey can feel the heat and weight of his dick between his abdomen and hers through the dress. She sandwiches it more tightly between them when she curls a leg around the back of his and rubs her pussy against his thigh. It feels horribly filthy, but the instinct to keep going overtakes her embarrassment. The wet noises complement those coming from their mouths.

 

He growls, then drags her off of him entirely. Rey parts her stinging lips to protest, then finds herself being hauled up and thrown over Kylo’s shoulder. The short skirt of the dress rides up and Rey is mortified to realize her bare ass and sopping pussy are resting right next to her rival’s face. He knows it, too, as he leans the scarred side of his face against one ass cheek and gives it a nuzzle with the hard line of his nose. His hair tickles her. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so infuriating.

 

Rey tries to brace herself with her arms against his back and spews a couple of choice alien curses at him. She manages to give him a firm kick in the gut, narrowly missing his erection, before he thinks to pin her flailing legs under one arm. Kylo slaps her ass, then her pussy, and Rey’s protests are reduced to angry gasps.

 

“If we’d kept going, I was going to take you right there on the floor, scavenger,” Kylo says as he kneads her tingling pussy lips with two fingertips, “and you deserve my bed.”

 

Rey shivers.

 

The distance between where they’d been standing and his bed isn’t far, especially with Kylo’s long strides, but it feels like a long time. Her swollen pussy pulses and aches with each languid stroke from him. He doesn’t even begin to touch her clit. Rey twists her body in an attempt to make him brush it, even by accident.

 

And then, suddenly, it’s over. He hauls her off of him and tosses her on her back on the mattress. Rey lands with her limbs spread out and bounces a little. She takes stock of the bed for a moment, trying to avoid looking up at him more than anything else. The mattress and the featherbed on top of it are pillowy-soft and have absorbed the cold temperature of the room. Rey gets the feeling it will absorb their body heat just as easily.

 

She presses her legs together, suddenly aware that she’d been laying with them spread, and glances at Kylo as he prowls to one side of the bed to a side table next to it. There’s no chance of hiding his arousal. Rey eyes the clear liquid beading at the top, the pronounced veins running along the whole of the shaft, the dark pubic hair trimmed short at the base. Rey peers at her own thick, tangled bush, then parts her legs slightly again to glance at the pink slickness of her entrance. She closes them again just as quickly, embarrassed by just how wet she’s gotten.

 

Kylo begins pouring something clear and viscous on his dick from a bottle extracted from the table. He slides his hand up and down his member, making obscenely wet noises. Rey swallows.

 

Has he ever done this before? ‘This,’ being… whatever it is they’re about to do, him putting that dick inside of her pussy, perhaps. Or maybe she's wrong and it's meant to go somewhere else. She doesn't care. She'll do anything that will make her stop wanting him and satiate the throbbing between her legs if only for a second. Rey assumes he has done it—probably because he’s the older one and supposed to be the teacher. Still, there's a bit of hesitation to his strokes that has her wondering.

 

Kylo seems confident enough when he gets on the bed and crouches over her on all fours. After flipping up the front of her skirt so it lays on her belly, he slides some of the excess wet stuff he’d been putting on his dick onto her pussy. Rey spreads her legs, then crosses them over the broad spread of his back to hem him in between her thighs. Kylo rubs the slick on her labia, then pushes a finger between them. Even with the lubricant, it doesn’t get far. He spits on her mound, then, and uses his saliva to slicken her further.

 

Rey’s mouth drops open and she might have closed her legs if he wasn’t nestled between them. “What are you _doing?_ ”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kylo asks, not bothering to look up.

 

“How would you like it if I spat on you?”

 

“Very much.”

 

Rey groans, then groans harder in earnest as he manages to slide a finger into her.

 

Kylo’s fingers are thick and long. Just one has her feeling distinctly strange and her pussy clenches with the intrusion. But if she can’t handle that, there’s no way the huge organ between his legs will fit.

 

“Relax,” Kylo whispers against her thigh.

 

Rey tries, if only so the bit of twinging pain in her pussy ceases.

 

Her technique for relaxing matches up with those she uses for sleep and meditation; imagining an ocean in her mind’s eye. She closes her eyes and attempts to match up her breathing with the waves lapping at the shore of the single island disrupting the otherwise endless blue. It makes her feel a bit sleepy, but it works. Before she knows it she’s full of three of Kylo’s fingers. Once she notices, she suddenly feels them in sharp relief, stretching her, feeling them curl and bump up against a spot that makes her tremble.

 

“A-ah—” Rey mewls, then bites her lip again, hard enough that she’s surprised she doesn’t draw blood.

 

This loss of control is unbearable. She knots her hands in the blanket without even realizing and her heels dig into his back. In the next moment she finds she’s not the only one losing her grip.

 

Kylo exhales a hot, wet breath against her thigh and she realizes he’s moving the rest of his body in heaves. Rey cranes her neck and sees that he’s grinding against the bed. She imagines that liquid she’d seen pooling at the top of his dick and the lubricant getting smeared on the lush featherbed, staining it, marking his desire. Her walls spasm, hard. Unlike before, when her wetness and the pulses had nothing to be rewarded with but empty air and uncontrollable want, she has his fingers. It feels so good to be full, and she’s only going to get fuller—

 

That thought and the sensation of the tips of his teeth sinking the slightest bit into her inner thigh has her walls pulsing harder than ever around his fingers and her spine arching and everything tingling. The dress feels so hot against her skin. Rey pants and groans as Kylo pulls his fingers out of her with a squelch. She’s swollen and dripping wet, her juices running down her hairy pussy to her perineum and taint.

 

Her eyes closed at some point without her even realizing. Rey opens them, dazed, to see Kylo lapping at the juices on his fingers. She swallows.

 

“You… look… so… good.” He slides each slick-covered finger into his mouth during the brief pauses between his words before extracting them with a wet pop.

 

Again the utter wrongness of the situation strikes her—being pleasured by Kylo Ren, not in some war-torn ditch full of alien aphrodisiac flora as she sometimes had daydreams… nightmares… about, but in his bed. Fully comfortable and more than ready to be torn right down the middle by the monster’s dick. Rey licks her lips. He thinks she looks good, so she probably looks pfassking filthy to match her thoughts.

 

Kylo rubs her trembling lower abdomen through the dress, then lifts her legs off of his shoulders. She shifts her legs further to allow him to crawl forward and brace himself over her. Rey throws her arms around him and feels the broad spread of his back in a gesture that feels at once sensual and childish.

 

Stars, she really is lonely if she thought to hug Kylo Ren amidst questionably set up sex.

 

Her juices taste bittersweet on his tongue when they kiss. He restrains himself from ripping Rey’s favorite dress after he grips the neckline and she gives him a warning glare. Kylo contents himself with pulling the neckline down far enough to expose her little tits so he can fondle them, twisting and pinching at her already erect nipples until they’re berry red.

 

She can feel the heavy weight of his dick and testicles draped on her thigh, the former slick with his precum and the lubricant. He’s started moving his hips again, humping like an animal.

 

“Come on,” Rey hisses. “Take me.”

 

Kylo changes his position to line himself up, presses the head of his immense dick to her pussy lips, makes as if to impale her with it but instead just… holds it there.

 

Resisting the urge to cry out in frustration, Rey lifts her head from where she’d rested it against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

Maybe he’s been nervous the whole time and covering it up. He’s avoiding her eyes.

 

“I tried to prepare you, but you’re… you’re so small. I’m going to hurt you anyway.”

 

It figures his sadomasochistic nature would flee when it comes to this crucial step.

 

“I’m not small, you’re just gigantic. And rest assured I’ve probably hurt you worse.”

 

Rey takes the initiative, then, and grabs a hold of Kylo Ren’s cock to guide it into her entrance. She doesn’t know where the bravery comes from, as she’s never handled such a thing in her life and it should frighten her more than it does. The low, rough sigh of desire from Kylo in response to her hand probably helps. The skin is softer and suppler than she imagined around the hardness and the whole of it is so, so hot. His pulse jumps and his cock twitches at her touch.

 

Getting the head in is the worst part. Despite the lubricant, despite how Rey tries to make herself relax once more, the bulbous tip hurts. It drags the rings of muscle in her pussy as it pushes in. Once it makes it past there, the rest fits more easily. Even so, he’s stretching her well past what she thought was her limit. Further, further…

 

Rey looks down. What he’s managed to fit inside, all far-too-many inches, has her lower belly the slightest bit distended, visible even with the dress. The base is still exposed, but she’s so overwhelmingly full.

 

She breathes a curse as she stares at where they’re joined.

 

Kylo pulls his dick the slightest bit out, then slowly pushes it back in. Rey exhales a shaky breath that turns into a groan as he does it again. It’s a thick slide of hot and wet and more noises Rey didn’t know either of them could make. Her breasts and belly feel tight.

 

She feels completely at his mercy, more so than when he had her strapped to the interrogation table. The difference is that she isn’t afraid, and along with the pain of his girth and length inside of her there’s irrevocable pleasure building. Pleasure that’s making her thoughts melt together into one single thought:

 

He’s so _big_.

 

Not just his cock, though that’s certainly the focus, but the whole of him. Calling him gigantic earlier hadn’t been an exaggeration. That vast, dark presence of his being written in the Force, a black hole torn in the fabric of Rey’s universe, devouring her and any semblance of light she has. If she closes her eyes for a second too long she almost forgets he’s just a man set on fucking her.

 

Then he moves his hips and she feels the slide of him inside of her. And she remembers. All too well.

 

She calms only minimally when Kylo takes one of her hands in his and intertwines their fingers. His are wet with her juices and his saliva. It’s more than a little gross. The way that both of them are beginning to sweat that will be the case with everything else anyway, so Rey resolves to enjoy it. She squeezes his hand with trust she didn’t know she had for him and intensity they both know she did.

 

After a few rounds of him gently moving his hips, his teeth sunk deep into his lower lip with concentration, Kylo pushes in a little deeper, then deeper still. Rey can feel the difference at once. His balls are pressed up against her anus. The sensation of the head of his dick crushed to her cervix makes all of the discs in her spine feel out of place. The pain is instantaneous; sharp, then aching.

 

Rey cries out before she can stop herself. Kylo almost jerks all the way out of her in response, stopping only because her walls are clamped down so hard on his thickness.

 

“I knew I would hurt you,” Kylo says, shaking his head.

 

He looks so guilty. Rey wishes he would just be vicious. That’s what she has always expected from him.

 

And so, against her better judgement, she says, “More.”

 

“More?”

 

“I want more,” she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders again and pulling him down so their faces are inches apart. “Give it to me.”

 

He hesitates, but the hotness and tightness of her pussy aid him in his decision to start moving. It’s slow and gentle all over again.

 

Rey nips his lower lip and hisses, “Harder.”

 

Kylo grits his teeth, but begins to slam into her. Rey lays back with a gasp. It becomes abundantly clear how much he’s been holding back. The smack of flesh on flesh complements the tiny cries from the back of Rey's throat that can’t hold back at every jolt sent through her system.

 

She hopes that this will build back up her total resentment for him. That the pain will remind her he’s the enemy.

 

Her plan backfires spectacularly. She becomes used to the heat and weight and obtrusiveness of his dick. The hard shock of pain melts into something hot and gooey in Rey’s lower belly, something she craves. It’s helped along further when Kylo rubs his thumb against her clit. Her voice reaches a pitch she didn’t know it was capable of.

 

Her breasts, even dainty as they are, bounce hard against the barrier formed by her tugged down neckline. Rey grasps at them and tugs at her nipples, teasing more squirming and keening from herself. She starts to cant her hips to meet his thrusts, reasoning even through her throbbing pleasure that she can’t let him have complete control.

 

Control ends up slipping from her grasp anyway when he crushes her clitoris beneath the pad of his thumb as he fills her to the brim and then some with his massive dick.

 

Rey bites down on Kylo’s shoulder to muffle her scream as her muscles clamp down hard on him, pulsating repeatedly in time with her clit that he’s rubbing mercilessly. His movements get sloppier as he moans aloud, not bothering to disguise his pleasure like her. It’s that delicious sound that undoes her. Every part of Rey tenses for a long second, curling her fingers and toes. She can feel the bed, the dress, and most of all him in sharp relief, before she goes limp and all of her senses go to a blurry mess.

 

The only distinct sensation she catches is that of what feels like more warmth inside of her as Kylo goes as tense as she did a moment ago and hisses curses intermixed with her name between his teeth. Such admiration and such hatred.

 

He keeps himself braced over her, then pulls his softening penis out. Rey can feel a wet gush of fluid from her pussy as he lays on his side next to her. She needs another shower.

 

Rey smooths her skirt down and doesn’t fight Kylo (too much) when he wraps his arms around her from the side and pulls her to his naked body. Despite his precautions, her pussy is aching like it’s been bruised from the inside out thanks to the sheer size of his dick. Never mind that she’d encouraged roughness.

 

She lets her eyes droop closed. An injury that will surely make it difficult to walk is as good an excuse to herself as any for her to remain with him for just a while longer before going back to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very much appreciated. :3c
> 
> [Check me out on tumblr.](http://cobwebbing.tumblr.com/)


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